


A Wicked Good Summer

by mygiantoflannister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, New England, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mygiantoflannister/pseuds/mygiantoflannister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark was looking forward to a nice, peaceful summer spending time with her friends and working at the local diner before the craziness of senior year, that is, until she met Sandor Clegane.  Sansa wants nothing to do with the brash, tactless Sandor, but in a small New England town like Woodbury, it’s impossible to avoid anyone.  Will their constant encounters bring them together, or will small town gossip tear them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memorial Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jillypups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jillypups/gifts).



> Hi everyone! I'm dedicating this story to the lovely Jillypups, whose "Sonoitaverse" inspired me to write about my own town.

_“Why for the love of the Seven didn’t I put on sunscreen before I left this morning?”_ Sansa thought miserably, baking under the hot sun, _“And where did Arya go?”_

It was Memorial Day weekend, and at Sansa’s prep school that meant Graduation Day.  The ceremony was held outdoors in the picturesque quad, and it really was beautiful, except that there was no shade and Memorial Day was consistently one of the hottest days of the year.  _“This is Connecticut! It’s supposed to be_ cold _here!”_

Craning her long neck, Sansa spotted Arya standing in the shade under a lone tree at the back of the quad. She stood up, smoothed down her blue tribal print maxi dress, and adjusted her cat-eye sunglasses as she strode towards her younger sister.

“Hey, Sans, any idea when this is over?” Arya asked, sweaty and uncomfortable in her maroon sundress.

“Well, they just started giving out diplomas, so there’s probably another hour left—weren’t you at graduation last year?”

“Nah, I was a freshman and didn’t care about any of the seniors.  Gendry, Lommy, and I played video games all day.” 

“Classic,” Sansa murmured.

“Is it weird, Sans?”

“Is _what_ weird?”

“The fact that this is gonna be you next year!  After this week, you’re a _senior_.  How crazy is that?”

“Don’t remind me,” Sansa could already feel a headache coming on as Arya’s words brought to mind the college essays, SAT prep courses, and college tours she had to look forward to in the coming months.

“It’ll be fine,” Arya patted her older sister reassuringly on the shoulder, “You’re insanely smart, you’re gonna be the captain of the lacrosse team next year, and, if all else fails, Dad can buy your way into college.”

“ _Arya_!” Sansa’s jaw dropped, “I suppose it was too much to think you were being nice for once.”

“You know me, sis,” she chuckled, before cheering as a friend graduated, “Hey, so how pissed do you think Mom and Dad would be if I blew off this thing at the Baratheon’s and hung out with Gendry instead?”

“I wish we could blow it off, Arya, really, but Dad is so excited.  We can be each other’s support—it’ll be okay.”

Every Memorial Day, her father’s best friend Robert Baratheon threw a huge barbecue at his mansion. In the past, Sansa had been thrilled to attend, hoping to catch the eye of his handsome son, Joffrey. Two years ago, she finally had, and she’d enjoyed a summer of fairytale romance before Joffrey showed his true colors. He was abusive, cruel, and a monster, and even after she dumped him he still pursued her, until finally Robert Baratheon had had enough, and sent him away to boarding school. Sansa hadn’t seen him in over a year, and she’d wished to keep it that way, but the Baratheon picnic was tradition and she had to be there for her family.  _“And now I’m going to show up with sunburns all over and look like an idiot,”_ she thought, wincing as she moved her arm and felt the sunburn on her shoulder.

The ceremony ended, and Sansa drove Arya home to Woodbury in her sky blue Jeep Wrangler.  Woodbury was a town like any other in Northwestern Connecticut. The streets were lined with colonial houses, no less than seven churches of varying denominations, at least eight antique shops, and somewhere around twenty-six restaurants (five diners, two Asian restaurants, three upscale American restaurants, two delis, somewhere around four pizza joints, three Italian restaurants, two Greek restaurants, three restaurants as old as the town itself, an ice cream parlor, and a taco truck). 

The Starks had lived in Woodbury for hundreds of years, practically since its founding in 1673, when Woodbury had encompassed seven of the surrounding towns.  The distinguishing feature of the town, however, was not the restaurants or the antique shops or the churches, but the Masonic Temple located at the end of Main, perched atop a high cliff and accessed by a long flight of steps. Visible from a distance and especially beautiful when illuminated by spotlights at night, the building had always reminded Sansa of an Ancient Greek temple perched at the edge of a high cliff from which it could be seen from miles around and from far out at sea.

“There you girls are!” their mother Catelyn said, opening the door as her daughters jumped out of the car and walked towards their house, “We’re leaving as soon as you get changed—Sansa what happened to your shoulders?”

“Sunburn,” she said glumly, sliding down a dress strap in front of the entry hall mirror, grimacing at the sharp contrast between her pale skin and the angry red burn.

“What did I tell you before you left this morning?” Catelyn had her hands on her hips.

“Put on sunscreen, it’s going to be hot out, I know, Mom,” she and Arya dashed away to their rooms.

Sansa sighed as she shut the door, kicked off her wedges, and flopped down onto the bed, lavishing in the cool air being blown towards her from the air-conditioner.  She rested for a few moments before pulling off her dress and standing in front of her mirror to analyze her sunburns.  Her right shoulder was worse than the left one, oddly enough, and her sunglasses had left her looking slightly like a raccoon. On one knee, there was a patch of sunburn from where the slit up the side of her dress had left her skin exposed, and she still had some ridiculous-looking shin guard tans from lacrosse season.

 _“There’s nothing I can do about it now,”_ she reasoned, changing into her favorite lavender polka dot bikini, covering it with jeans shorts and a lacy black T-shirt.

The entire Stark clan piled into Cat’s minivan for the short ride to the Baratheon mansion. Sansa’s family was huge and loud and sometimes they were incredibly annoying, but she wouldn’t want it any other way.  Her oldest brother, Robb, recently back home after finishing his sophomore year at Yale, was teasing Theon, her adopted brother, about some girl he used to date, while her father Ned was trying to ask Theon how his junior year at Syracuse has been. Jon, her cousin, was quietly plotting something with Arya, while fourteen-year-old Bran and ten-year-old Rickon bickered about Marvel versus DC.  Sansa was staring out the window as the lush spring landscape whipped by, happy to have her family back together.

All too soon, they’d reached the Baratheon mansion, a sprawling red brick monstrosity that sat atop a hill at the end of a long tree-lined driveway.  Ned parked the car and they all hopped out as Robert Baratheon opened his front door and stepped out to meet them, beer in hand. 

Ever since the Baratheons moved back to Woodbury seven years earlier, they had been a constant presence in Sansa’s life.  Robert, her father’s best friend from childhood, had always been her favorite.  With his big, booming laugh, constant witty banter that contrasted her father’s more serious nature, and love for a good time, it was impossible not to love him.  He had not aged very well, but Sansa could still see signs of his former famed good looks—his brilliantly blue eyes glittered mischievously, and his black hair, though receding, was thick and handsomely streaked with gray. 

“Ned!  It’s been far too long,” he exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back, before turning to face the others.  “Cat, beautiful as ever,” he kissed her mother on the cheek, “And these must be your girls—I hardly recognize them!” 

“Hello, Mr. Baratheon, how are you?” Sansa barely managed to squeak out before he wrapped her and Arya in a big bear hug. 

“Sansa, you look just like your mother, and Arya, you look just like your aunt,” Sansa noticed a flash of sadness cross his blue eyes before he brushed it off and went to greet her brothers. 

“Go right out back,” Robert instructed them, “Cersei and everyone is already outside—Ned, c’mere, let me get you a drink,” he led her father away. 

Sansa and her family walked the length of the house around to the backyard.  The motto of the Baratheon family might as well have been ‘excess’ because in addition to an Olympic-sized swimming pool complete with a water slide and hot tub, the yard also featured a tennis court, a barbecue pit, and a tiki bar where a hired bartender was making cocktails.

 _All the usuals are here,_ Sansa noticed, scanning the crowd.  _Stannis and his family, Renly, the Lannisters, and, ugh, of course the Tyrells are here. They’re never one to miss a social event._

“Cat!  Sansa!  So glad you could make it!” Cersei Lannister-Baratheon was headed their way, the epitome of beauty and glamor in rose-tinted sunglasses, perfectly tailored white capris, and a red tunic top that complemented her already tan skin. _How is she already tan? It’s_ May _!_

“Mrs. Baratheon! It’s so good to see you!” Sansa exclaimed, trying not to cringe when Cersei reached out for a hug. _Remember your manners_ , she reminded herself. 

“Myrcella’s been dying to see you, dear, why don’t you go find her?” _Dismissed, thank the gods._

Sansa quickly spotted Myrcella on the other side of the patio chatting with Margaery Tyrell and Renly Baratheon, Woodbury’s hottest “it couple.”  _Not that a town as small and as rural as Woodbury should even have such things._

Myrcella caught Sansa’s eye and waved her over.  Sansa had always been particularly fond of Myrcella.  Despite the age difference, the girls shared a similar taste in clothes and movies, and Sansa appreciated that Myrcella had all of her mother’s beauty and none of her nature. _It’ll be so exciting to have Myrcella at school with me next year!_ She strode by the pool towards her friend, but she didn’t make it, because just as she was about to reach Myrcella, a group of boys ran towards her and pushed her into the pool—clothes and all.  Sansa didn’t see any of the boys faces, but she thought she saw a blond boy standing behind them laughing _.  Joffrey and his goons.  Of course._

Yelping, Sansa crashed into the water, flailing like a madwoman as she swallowed water and started sinking. Before she had time to process anything, a pair of strong arms was pulling her out of the water. The stranger picked her up and set her down on a lounge chair.  Sputtering, she tried to catch her breath. 

“Are you alright?” the stranger asked, sitting in the chair next to hers. 

As Sansa looked up at his face, she let out a gasp, which she quickly attempted to pass off as another bout of coughing. Her rescuer looked about Theon’s age, muscled like an ox and tall even when sitting, with thick dark hair and piercing grey eyes.  His most noticeable feature, however, was not the muscles or his eyes, but the grotesque burns covering the left side of his face _. You’re gaping_ , Sansa realized, _Stop gaping!_

“Uh, yeah I think I’m okay. Joffrey just has a sick sense of humor, so it’s a good thing I had a knight in shining armor to rescue me, huh?” She flashed him her most winning smile.

But it was useless. “Knight in shining armor? What are you, five?” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey!  I was just trying to be funny!”  _What is this guy’s problem?_ “I’m Sansa, by the way, Sansa Stark.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake.

Raising his eyebrows at her outstretched hand, she thought for a second he wouldn’t return the gesture, but he did, grasping her small, dainty hand with his huge, callused one. “Sandor Clegane.”

“So, how do you know the Baratheons?”

“We don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?”

“This,” he gestured around her, “The small talk thing.  I know you’re just trying to be the polite little bird your mommy and daddy raised you to be—always chirping some sweet little bit of nonsense.”

“You know,” she said, standing up, “I was just being nice, okay?  That is a thing—being nice—I don’t know if you know that or not.”

He looked taken aback. _Good_. “I-I was—”

“And for what it’s worth, I _was_ genuinely interested in how you knew the Baratheons but you don’t want to talk to me so I’ll just leave.” She headed towards Myrcella.

“Hey, Sansa, wait a second!”

“So, thanks for saving me or whatever and have a nice rest of the day!” She didn’t know why she was so angered by him, but she supposed it had something to do with the fact that she had never met someone who seemed to like it _better_ when people were rude to him.

 “Sansa!  What happened?  Are you ok?” Myrcella placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, concerned green eyes meeting Sansa’s annoyed blue ones.

 “Your brother’s asshole friends pushed me into the pool,” she huffed.

 “Ugh, I’m sorry. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll get you a towel to dry off?  Margaery, Renly, please excuse us.”

 “’Cella, who is that guy?” Sansa asked once they’d reached Myrcella’s room and she’d peeled off her wet clothes.

 “Which guy?” the blonde asked, admiring her Lilly Pulitzer sundress in the mirror on the back of her door.

 “The one that rescued me. Sandor, I think he said his name was?”

 “Sandor _Clegane_?” Myrcella’s eyes widened.

 “Yeah!  Yeah, that’s him.”

 “Oh, he’s, like, a friend of my mom’s family.  I think his older brother works for my grandpa or something.”

 “What happened to his face?”

 “There was some sort of freak accident when he was little—like, his bed caught on fire or something and it ruined half his face.  It’s so sad, because he would be pretty cute if it weren’t for, you know, the burns.”

 “Yeah,” Sansa agreed, “But his personality ruins it.”

 “Enough about Sandor” Myrcella began, changing the subject, “Let’s talk about us being in school together next year!

 The rest of Sansa’s evening was uneventful.  She swam in the pool with Arya and her brothers, watched a smitten Myrcella attempt to flirt with the very taken, very in love with his girlfriend, Robb, and ate more than her fair share of picnic foods.  The boys disappeared halfway through the party, and Sandor must’ve gone with them because she didn’t see him again until the party was winding down and her parents were gathering their children to say their goodbyes.

 As the adults were busy with their choruses of  “Thank you for coming!” and “Thank you for having us!” Sansa headed towards the car but stopped when someone tapped on her shoulder.

 Turning, she was met with a muscled chest.  She looked up and saw that it was Sandor.  “Listen,” he started, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole earlier.”

 “Oh it’s fine!” she smiled, “Don’t worry about it!”

 “Okay.  Okay, great!  So, I’ll see you around?”

 “Yeah, I mean, it’s a small town, right?” 

 

 


	2. Dottie's Diner

Junior year ended quietly, and Sansa enjoyed the early days of summer sleeping late and watching trashy reality television before her summer job at Dottie’s Diner started. The previous summer, Sansa had waitressed at the Curtis House, the inn her family had owned since her distant ancestor Brandon Stark had built it in 1736.  No less than three weeks into her job, Sansa understood why people often said not to work for one’s family, and why Robb, Jon, and Theon always found summer employment elsewhere.

No, the tavern-style dining scene was not for Sansa, but she was hoping waitressing at the 1950’s themed diner famous for their cinnamon sugar doughnuts would be more fun, even if the diner was owned by Olenna Tyrell.  _At least my uniform is cute_ , Sansa thought, eying the candy pink dress and black and white checkered apron.

The morning of her first day, Sansa donned her uniform and pulled her long hair back into a retro ponytail complete with a pink scarf tied in a bow around her hair elastic. She drove to the diner, arriving about a half hour before the restaurant opened for breakfast.

“Sansa!  So good to see you!” she was greeted by Margaery Tyrell, looking absolutely flawless in her own uniform.  _I didn’t realize_ she _was gonna be working here!  Maybe this was a mistake…_

“Hi, Margaery, how are you?”

“Oh, Margaery is so formal, and we’re friends right?” she flashed her crooked grin and continued before Sansa had a chance to respond, “Call me Margie!” 

“O-okay, Margie?” It wasn’t that Sansa hated Margaery, just that something about the girl’s grins and overly friendly attitude rubbed her the wrong way.  _No one’s that nice._ Being around Margaery Tyrell was like being in a competition, one that Sansa didn’t even know she’d entered and which she felt she had no chance of winning. _The Tyrells are just a bunch of new money social climbers._

“It’s gonna be so much fun working together this summer, Sansa!  I’ve been wanting to get to know you better but everything’s always so hectic during the school year.  Now we’ll finally be able to bond—isn’t that great?”  Another grin. 

“I can’t wait!” _I can play this game, too,_ Margie.  “So, where are you going to college next year?” 

“Dartmouth!  They recruited me for field hockey.”  _Or grandma bought your acceptance letter._

“You must be so excited!” 

“So excited—and where are you going?”

“I’ve still got another year in high school, actually.” 

“Oh, well, senior year will be a blast, I’m sure.  Why don’t I show you around before everyone else gets here?” 

The girls kept up pleasant chatter as Margaery showed Sansa around.  The diner had a counter near the door where patrons could quickly grab a drink or some pastries to go, but the main portion of the restaurant was filled with teal booths, tables with chairs,  and a large soda fountain counter that jutted out from the back wall near the kitchens. The décor was all 1950s themed, giving the diner a charming, old-fashioned atmosphere that Sansa had fallen in love with the first time she had a Dottie’s doughnut.  As customers started to come in for their morning coffees and doughnuts, Sansa was surprised to find that she actually enjoyed talking to Margaery, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that their newfound friendship was for appearances only.  _I hope I’m wrong about her._  

“Hey, will you go take care of those guys that just sat at the counter?” one of the other waitresses asked around lunchtime.

“Yeah, sure,” Sansa said, heading out of the kitchen.  Two young men had taken seats at the counter.  The man on the left was roguishly handsome, with shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, and stubble, and the man on the right “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sansa muttered.

“Sansa?” Sandor exclaimed when she approached them, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“It’s my first day. Can I get you boys drinks?” she asked, handing them menus.

“So _you’re_ Sansa,” Sandor’s friend said slyly, “I’ll have a Coke.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Sansa raised her eyebrows, and Sandor roughly elbowed his friend in the ribs.

“Nothing,” Sandor said forcefully, “Bronn’s an idiot is what it means.”

“If you say so,” Sansa smirked, “Let me get you that Coke.”

“Hey!  I’ll have one, too,” Sandor called after her.

Margaery ambushed her at the soda fountain.  “Do you know those guys?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I met the taller one at the Baratheon’s cook out.” 

“I already know Sandor, of course. I meant the friend!” 

“I just met him today. His name’s Bronn.” 

“He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?” 

Sansa finished pouring the drinks and looked Margie in the eyes.  “I guess…but don’t you have a boyfriend?” 

“I do!  And I love Renly, really, but…it doesn’t hurt to look, does it? Find out more about this Bronn guy for me!” she waved Sansa away. 

“Have you decided what you’d like?” she asked, setting down the drinks. 

“Hmmm,” Bronn eyed the menu, “I think I’d like your number.”  He looked up from the menu with a devilish grin, and sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. 

“Nice try, but I’m more concerned about what you’d like to eat.  And for the record, it’s probably not a good idea to be sleazy around the girl that’s getting you your food. 

Sandor chuckled softly, and Bronn was suddenly very interested in his menu.  “You’re gonna spit in my food, aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Bronn let out a deep sigh. “I’ll have the chicken pot pie.”

“And for you?” she looked over to Sandor, who couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or amused by his friend’s behavior.

“The burger, please. No tomato.”

“Alright let me get that for you boys,” she smiled her most charming smile and headed for the kitchen, where Margaery was waiting.

“So?” she demanded.

“Bronn asked for my number.”

“And?”

“I didn’t give it to him. Obviously.”

“You’re no fun,” she huffed.

“Margie!  I don’t even know him!”

“So?!  He’s hot, you’re hot, it’s summer—he could be the love of your life!  But you’ll never know.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Margie. He’s just a guy.” _And_ so _not my type._

“Whatever.”

The boys avoided further conversation with Sansa after Bronn’s disastrous attempt at flirting. She didn’t mind, but she had to admit the attention was nice.  After Joffrey, the thought of being in any sort of relationship sounded absolutely terrifying, but now that a year had passed she thought it might be time to give boys another try.  _It would be nice to have someone that doted on me.  And, gods, when was the last time I kissed someone?_ When Sansa went to collect her tip after the boys had paid and left, she noticed that they’d tipped her well and that one of them had left a slip of paper on top of the money. “In case you change your mind. -Bronn” was scrawled across the paper, with a phone number underneath it.

“Unbelievable,” Sansa muttered, shoving the paper in her pocket and clearing their plates off the counter. 

After her shift ended, Sansa returned home and decided to put the weirdness of her first day behind her. Her phone buzzed as she was getting changed; it was a text from Jeyne Poole, her best friend since kindergarten.

 

J: How was your first day?

S: Bizarre.

J: Tell me all the gory details!

S: It’s better in person—wanna get dinner?

J: Sounds great! Taco truck in 30?

S: I need to get gas first but I’ll be there.

J: Kk, see you then!

 

Sansa had had her doubts about the Taco Truck when it first arrived in Woodbury—how could food made in a van _not_ be shady?—but once she’d finally taken a chance and tried it, she’d been pleasantly surprised. The truck was owned and operated by a man named Oberyn Martell, who’d grown up with her parents. His gregarious personality and cooking skills made the Taco Truck Sansa and Jeyne’s favorite spot.

At the gas station, Sansa pumped her gas and went inside to pay.  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who was working the cash register: none other than Sandor and Bronn. 

“No fucking way,” she said, “you guys do not work here.”

“’Course we do, babe,” said Bronn, somehow managing to be sleazier than before, “So, have you reconsidered my offer?”

“Oh, lay off, Bronn,” Sandor rolled his eyes, “Sorry about him.”

“It’s fine,” Sansa said, paying for her gas, “Some people just can’t take a hint.”  She paused as Sandor handed her the receipt. “Well, see ya.” 

“Hey, Sansa, wait!” For once, it wasn’t Bronn that called after her, but Sandor.

She turned, “Yeah?” 

“Some guys are having a party at Lake Quassapaug this Friday—you should come.” 

“Oh yeah?  Is it gonna be any fun?”

“It will be if you’re there,” Bronn interrupted. 

“Shut up, Bronn! But, yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Well sure, I guess I’ll go.”

“Really?”  Sandor actually looked…excited?

“I’ll text Bronn for details, since he was kind enough to give me his number.”

On her way out, she heard Bronn begin to ask Sandor “If that was a yes.”  _You wish._

_Jeyne is not gonna believe the day I had._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! There's nothing I love more than reading your comments and suggestions! xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review! Any and all feedback is much appreciated!


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